


Forward

by wreckofherheart



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Annie-Centric, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckofherheart/pseuds/wreckofherheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are staggered by his presence. His youthful face, beautiful eyes; <i>his agony</i>. [Eren/Annie]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forward

     Love is bloody fists, broken ribs, bruised cheeks. Love is what your father offers you; his forced smiles, teary eyes, and ageing face. Love yells, love smacks, love weeps, and love clings onto his last moments with your mother. You are her mirror image. He can’t handle the sight of you. He scowls, drinks himself silly, spits and groans into his aching palms. You’re too much like her, but it’s not that which kills him. She died giving birth to you. When your father lays eyes on your pretty, scarred face, all he sees is a murderess. 

     His baby was born a killer.

     And he will never forgive you. Not for taking what was his.

     Love trains you. Love pushes you out of bed, slaps you awake. Love feeds you, drapes a blanket over your heavy shoulders, and love washes your hair and sore face. Love says he is sorry, wraps his arms around your skinny, fierce body, and holds you until you forgive him. You always forgive him. You are always trapped in his embrace, overwhelmed by his fondness of you; he is the only person in the world who loves you for what you are, and you take what you can from his affections. 

     You _worship_ him.

     He moulds you into a warrior. A brilliant, unbeatable woman. He creates you into something beastly; immortal and awesome. Your father shouts “again” and “again” and “one more time” until you are on your hands and knees, vomiting and sweating and down. As always, he grabs you by the scruff of your collar, forces you to your feet, runs his fingers through your hair, and whispers sorry, I am sorry, and then––”again”. One more time. Kick, punch, jump. You are a child, a little girl, and you can defeat Gods.

     Love is bloody fists, broken ribs, bruised cheeks.

     Love is war. Love is what you are born to give.

     Yet, love is also the face of a boy you hurt. Love is his eyes, wide and petrified. Love is his stubbornness, his anger, his wild passion. Love is Eren Jaegar: a child, like you, thrown into the pits of Hell. His passion and keenness is a shock to your system. You don’t know what to make of this creature. His large, brown, deep eyes. Filled with longing, millions of apologies, and a fire. Scorching everything in his path. He is a child in every sense of the word: naïve, spiritual, lost––drunk with hope.

     He dreams of peace. A world of bliss. Where innocence reigns, and all evil is thwarted. He dreams of family, his hand in his sister’s. He dreams of smiles, and laughter, and kisses. The dancing of men and women, the wonder of joy and freedom. He dreams of the Walls crumbled away, and Titans erased. He dreams of allies, and he dreams of the robe on his back fluttering to the ground.

     You are staggered by his presence. His youthful face, beautiful eyes; _his agony_.

     You realise what love is when he touches your cheek. When he smiles at you. When he thumps your arm playfully. When he eats with you. Fights with you. Talks with you. Listens with you. You realise what love is when you want to surrender, admit your lies; you realise what love is when you imagine a life with this boy. Rotting away with his dreams in your head, and his lips on your bloody skin, and his hands at your neck and breasts. Love is death. Love is death, resting in your enemy’s wonderful embrace. 

     Love weeps when he rips at your Titan form.

     Love is when bright hope leaks out of his eyes, and he forgives you immediately. Love cries, his face pressed to your crystallised body; love is what waits for your return, shoulders slumped, spine breaking. 

     Love is his happy story, his final chapter: you.


End file.
